


I’ve Got A Feeling

by Historical_Muse



Series: Andy Serkis/Richard Coyle [1]
Category: british actor rps
Genre: AU in which neither actor is married, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, first-time sex, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Historical_Muse/pseuds/Historical_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Say the opportunity arose for you to do something that’s only ever been a fantasy before, with no strings or guilt attached.  Could you do it, or would feelings get in the way after all? And if you did, what might happen next?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those who may be unfamiliar with the name, Richard Coyle is best known for playing Jeff Murdock in Coupling and John Strange in Strange, both for the BBC; of late he's been more of an action hero: the “Lou” referred to in this fic is Lou Coulson, Andy Serkis’s agent.
> 
> This story was written in the mid-2000s.

I’ve got a feeling, a feeling deep inside, oh yeah...

 ~ **_I’ve Got A Feeling_** – John Lennon/Paul McCartney

**_ Joe Allen’s Restaurant, London _ **

As he made his way down the stairs, it was the voice that he noticed first, carrying across the half-empty basement restaurant from a half-hidden table and awakening a memory.  Something dark and rich about that voice, something playful and serious by turns, brought to mind just one person from his past.

Peering over the heads of the few nearby patrons, he saw a familiar face from the past and, grinning, made his way through the clutter of tables towards the older man, reaching his table just as he finished his phone conversation and dropped his mobile onto the table, where it clattered against his coffee cup and saucer and rattled cutlery.

The younger man stuck out his hand.  “Hi!  I don’t know if you remember, but we worked together once – about seven years ago?  I stopped in for a coffee and spotted you, and I just wanted to come over and say hello!”

Quickly attentive, Andy Serkis looked up at him and grinned broadly in recognition.  “Richard Coyle?” he began, standing up and shaking the proffered hand.  “Yeah, thought I knew the face – and –”  He raised his eyebrows and waved a rueful finger at his own mad mop of curls.

“– The hair,” Richard finished with a laugh.  “I’m very attached to my bifro, but it takes me _hours_ to pummel it into shape some mornings.”

“Same here.”  The accompanying nod was sympathetic.  “Between us we must keep L’Oreal in business!”

“That’s right – because we’re _worth_ it!” Richard chuckled.  “Though don’t you prefer Superdrug’s own brand?” he added, adopting an exaggeratedly refined tone.

Andy’s rumble of laughter made Richard smile even more.  “Every time – it costs a small fortune keeping this lot in order!”

Richard grinned.  “Got to keep using that product, darling,” he lisped camply, making Andy laugh again.  “Anyway, as I was saying – we worked together on –”

“– On **_Topsy Turvy_** for Mike Leigh!  Yes, I remember!”  Andy’s face crumpled in thought.  “Fuck me, what was the name of the character you played now?  Mr – Mr something...”

“Hammond, Mr Hammond,” Richard smiled back.  “One of the chorus.”

Andy laughed.  “Oh yeah!  That half-bald cap you had to wear during the **_Mikado_** scenes was fucking _awful_.”

“Oh, right!” Richard snorted, mock indignant and trying to hide a laugh.  “I seem to remember that _your_ tonsorial glory wasn’t exactly up to Nicky Clarke standards either, mate.”

Widening his eyes and shuddering in mock horror, Andy nodded.  “Not a pretty sight, by any means,” he agreed, recalling the none-too-flattering look he’d sported for _that_ particular role.

“And what _was_ that you had down your tights during the pep talk at the dress rehearsal scene?  I’ve always wanted to know.  I remember the poor girl sitting in front of you having hysterics from start to finish!”

“For me to know and you to find out, mate!”  Andy sat down again, motioning towards the chair opposite him.  “Come and join me!  I’m just idling away a couple of hours and I could do with the company.”

“No, no; it’s okay, didn’t mean to intrude or anything – like I said, I just wanted to say hello, that’s all.”

“You’re not intruding by any means – like I said, I could do with a bit of company!”

“Well, if you’re sure?”

“Look, if it’s a choice between this and fighting for a seat on the Tube back to North London on a too-warm evening, I know what _I’d_ prefer.  I know it’s Friday night, but I’ll go home when it’s cooler and quieter!”

“Whereabouts in North London?” Richard asked as he took the seat opposite Andy.

“Crouch End.”

“Oh, you’re not too far from me, then!” Richard exclaimed, before proceeding to explain the intricacies of the distance between them.

“It’s a small world,” Andy nodded, his bright, too-wide eyes and pursed, amused lips suggesting to Richard that perhaps this would be a good time to rein in his suddenly over-excited inner geek, which was already exaggerating his slight lisp, and wondering what the hell was starting to happen to him.

“Yeah, well, you know how it is...” Richard bumbled cheerfully, wondering why on _earth_ he’d had to bring up the contents of Andy-as-John-D’Auban’s sodding stripy tights and feeling the back of his neck prickle.

“You’re looking well,” Andy observed as Richard pulled his chair closer to the table and draped his jacket over the back.  He looked Richard over appraisingly in a way that made the younger man feel both slightly off-kilter and oddly excited.  “You’ve bulked up a bit.”  Andy patted his own upper chest and arms.  “Here.  There’s a lot more meat on you than I remember!”

Richard smoothed down his shirt and grinned.  “Thought it was time I got myself in shape.  It’s also for a TV thing I’ve got coming up soon.  Are _you_ doing anything at the moment, Andy?” he added hastily.  He gestured at the mobile.  “I mean – you working, or...?”  He let the question tail off, not wishing to make the other actor feel uncomfortable if he was currently unemployed.

“What?  Oh, no – just my agent phoning back to go over a few details about something I’ve got coming up in the next few months; Lou does like to keep me informed, bless her.  I went up to Berwick Street to see her this afternoon and she said she’d get back to me if she heard anything.  And then I decided to come in here to grab a coffee and while away a few hours.  You?”

Richard shrugged.  “Same here.  Dropped in on my agent, had a few calls to make, then a few things to pick up in town.  Fancied a coffee, and came straight over.  Bit of a trek, but I like it here – and the coffee’s pretty good!”

“More than you can say for the food!”  Andy slid his mobile off the table and slipped it into the pocket of his black leather jacket, which was slung over a spare chair at their table.  “You say you’ve got some TV work in the pipeline?”

Richard settled into his chair more comfortably and automatically picked up the menu and began to scan it.  “Me?  Oh yes, this and that.  Got some voice-over work planned for next week...”  Then he stopped, and buried his nose in the bill of fare.

Frowning in amusement, Andy stared at Richard.  “ _What_?”

The younger man grimaced as he peered hesitantly over the menu.  “Well, y’know, some people think that voiceovers are slumming it a bit – just a step up from vocal prostitution, really.”

“Fuck _that_ ,” Andy snorted, with a reassuring wink.  “It pays well and it doesn’t take long.  I’ve just done some, and I’m not ashamed of it.  Helps to pay the mortgage and keep me ticking over.  Not to mention that it’s not _half_ as fucking easy as everyone thinks it is – it’s no piece of cake trying to convince the great British public that _this_ product will do wonders for their dishwasher or _that_ mobile phone offer is better than all the others!”

“Prostitutes,” Richard declared solemnly, rolling the “r” and adding about fifteen vowels to the word.  “That’s what we are, actors.  Whores.  We sell our bodies and souls for the amusement of the masses.”  And then he lowered his head behind the menu again when he caught the way Andy was staring at him.  It may also have had something to do with the fact that Andy’s intense, smiling blue eyes, voice, and wild curls were having an effect on him that he hadn’t expected.  Not to mention the neatly trimmed beard, the tight black t-shirt that showed off sculpted shoulders and some serious bicep muscles, and the snug-fitting distressed jeans.

_< Oh, bugger>_

Startled, Richard shook himself discreetly when he realised that he’d been staring and that his mind had started throwing some _very_ unexpected erotic images in front of his eyes.  Worse, some of them were sticking...

“Spoken like a true Welsh Methodist chapel boy,” Andy said at length, somewhat bemused.

Richard rubbed his nose.  “Except I’m not Welsh.”

Andy looked surprised.  “ _Not_ Welsh?  But I thought you were – I mean, the accent and everything...”

“Shows you just how much of an impact I made on you when we last worked together!”  Richard dropped the menu back onto the table.  “Nah.  My parents are Irish, believe it or not, and I lived in Cardiff for a few years when I was a kid, but I’m a proud Yorkshireman, me.  Mind you, the accent _was_ stronger – and then I was sent to a local posh school and had the rough edges frightened out of me.”

Andy nodded sympathetically.  “Yeah, _I_ went to a school like that!  Only to add insult to injury I had _monks_ for teachers!”

“But I were barn an’ raezed in Sheffield,” Richard continued, emphasising the point by using an outrageously exaggerated Yorkshire accent.  “A solid, dependable, bluff, no-nonsense northerner!”

Andy rolled his eyes and laughed loudly.  “Oh god, you sound just like Sean Bean!”

“Aye, that’s right,” Richard nodded, beaming.  “Like good old Sean Bean!  A man’s man ‘oo laekes ‘is meat un’ taeters!  A rugged, manly, red-blooded Yorkshireman, and strictly 100% rampant heterosexual!”

“Unlike me, you mean?”  It was well known that Andy’s tastes ran both ways, and his eyes sparkled as he pursed his lips and looked down at the index finger he was moving in slow, lazy circles on the tablecloth.  “Well Sean Bean’s not _quite_ as strictly heterosexual as he’d have you believe, you know,” he grinned knowingly.

Richard raised an eyebrow.  “Please tell me you’re not saying what I _think_ you’re saying –”

Smiling impishly, Andy looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes and something in Richard’s tummy flipped over.  “...That Sean’s dabbled on the dark side?”

“Please!  No!” Richard exclaimed in mock-horror.  “Don’t say that!  What – and shatter all my illusions forever?”

Andy merely grinned more devilishly and enquired as to whether Richard might still like a coffee or, since the hour was growing late, would he prefer to order something to eat and share a bottle of red wine?  Deciding that at this precise moment this would be a wise decision, Richard agreed – also choosing to accede the choosing of fare to Andy, claiming that he didn’t think his brain could cope with the strain for a while.

In truth, Richard was more than happy to let the older man order, not really having either the energy or inclination to put his mind to it.  He’d been rushing around from appointment to appointment all day, and had barely had time for the odd sandwich and coffee, let alone “proper” food.  Now, he rather liked the idea of having someone else make the decisions for him – especially when they involved starting with grilled garlic mushrooms, moving on to grilled tuna with warm potato and Jerusalem artichoke salad and tuna tartar followed by chocolate and orange mousse with orange sauce, all washed down with a tasty bottle of Chianti or two.

And there was that Sean Bean thing to think about...

As a waiter arrived to take their order, Richard clasped his hands on the table and twiddled his thumbs idly, looking around at the bare brick walls lined with photos of celebrities and theatre posters.  Joe Allen’s was in the heart of the theatre district and was popular with both actors and theatre-goers – many resting performers often filled-in between jobs by waiting tables or doing bar work here.  Richard ate at Joe Allen’s quite often – rather more for the atmosphere and comparatively low prices than for the _quality_ of its eclectic mixture of classic modern American food, but he felt at ease and loved meeting up with his friends for cheap, dependable food.

“Not actually seen you here before,” he observed, as the waiter brought their starters, before grinning broadly.  “You come here often or...or some other useless cliché?”

Andy laughed.  “I’m usually here on a Sunday night – they have a nice little jazz trio that plays here then.”

“Oh!  That the sort of music you’re into, then?”

“Miles Davis, John Coltrane, jazz-fusion...I learnt to play tenor sax at school, so that’s my thing.  Though I was _massively_ into Madness and The Police when I was younger, and I also have a lot of time for Ian Dury.  In fact, I’ve often thought that I’d like to play him, actually – and it’s been suggested to me that I should.”

“I could see that,” Richard chuckled as he speared a mushroom.  “And I can _so_ see you as a Nutty Boy.”

Andy laughed.  “I’d’ve been good up there instead of Lee Thompson.  What about you?”

“Ah, now _me_ , I’m a total vinyl spod – I paid 35 quid for an original vinyl album only the other day.  My passion is 70s funk – it’s practically all I listen to – that and Stevie Wonder, Curtis Mayfield...  Oh, and Crosby, Stills and Nash – the Stephen Stills songs and the David Crosby songs, mind – not the Graham Nash ones.”

“Right,” Andy drawled mischievously as he topped up their glasses.  “I’ve _always_ seen Crosby Stills and Nash as being at the forefront of ‘70s funk, Richard...”

*  *  *  * *  *  *  *  *

The restaurant, always popular, was now beginning to fill up with patrons and it was becoming increasingly noisy – which suited Andy and Richard perfectly, affording them as it did the opportunity to rattle on to their hearts’ content.  Both of them, Richard decided, could talk the hind legs off a whole _herd_ of donkeys, let alone one.  Luckily, although service at Joe Allen’s was unfailingly cheerful, as both men knew only too well it would take ages for each course of their meal to be served – which meant that they would have plenty of time to discuss whatever took their fancy.

Something that soon became clear as they talked – and as Richard watched Andy tear bread apart with gusto and eat with a passion he found hugely appealing – was that there were many similarities between the two of them that went beyond a shock of messy curls and bright blue eyes.  Both of them had become involved in drama at university and had similar methods of immersing themselves in roles, creating back-stories for their characters and being fascinated by the nature of the darker side of the human psyche.  They’d both worked at the Donmar Warehouse theatre and filmed in New Zealand, their mothers had worked in caring professions, and both were one of five children – Andy having three sisters and a brother and Richard having four brothers.

A connection more out of the ordinary was that both men had seen a ghost – Andy in a Youth Hostel in the Scottish Highlands and Richard in the forests around Portmeirion, the surreally Italianate village built in North Wales by the architect Clough Williams-Ellis.  It seemed ironic that the Scottish Highlands were one of Richard’s favourite holiday destinations, having spent every summer there in a tent as a child, and that Portmeirion was on of the Italiophile Andy’s favourite places.

By this time, a waiter had arrived to clear away their plates and to bring the main course.  When Andy took the opportunity to order another bottle of wine, Richard raised a cautioning eyebrow at him.

“ _What?_ ” Andy demanded cheerfully.

“Are you going to be able to manage the Tube tonight, or am I going to have to pour you into a taxi?”

Andy deliberately poured more wine into Richard’s glass, wide eyes daring him to comment.  “Haven’t noticed you stopping me topping you up,” he countered.  “Anyway, don’t be such a wanker – it’s only our second bottle!

“I worry a lot!” Richard retorted, pretending to look hurt.

“You like a drink as much as the next man,” Andy tutted.  “If your consumption so far tonight is anything to go by...  Besides, the grub’ll soak it up.”

Richard chuckled.  “I’ll say that for this place – it’s good, solid comfort food.”

“Mmmm!” Andy agreed, attacking his grilled tuna with relish.  “And talking always gives me an appetite.”

Richard shrugged off the sudden shiver the word “appetite” sent running down his back.  “I never thought I’d be eating in places like this when I first started out,” he mused.  “Never thought when I went to Uni that I’d be an _actor_ , come to that.”

“Same here.  I was looking to be a painter or a graphic designer.”  Andy looked up at him.  “So what would you be doing now if you hadn’t been an actor?”

Richard laughed.  “Most likely I’d’ve been a really bad builder.  My dad was in the building trade and he was good at it.  I used to go and help him out, but I was pretty useless.  He used to get complaints, so eventually he asked me to stop.”  He broke off, fork poised.  “He died just as I was starting out in the business, so he never really saw me do anything – but I’ve been so lucky in my career that sometimes I think he must be watching over me.  I reckon he’s up there whispering in someone’s ear, asking them to look after his lad and make sure Sheffield Wednesday get a few good results.”

“My sister Kath’s involved in the theatre, but I’m the only thesp in the family,” Andy said, after a pause.

Bringing himself back to the present, Richard grinned.  “Well I grew up in a small mining town, and there’s no showbiz whatsoever in mine.  I only joined the Uni drama society because I only had one lecture and one seminar a week and because it had the prettiest stall at Fresher’s Week.”

“That’s when you got the bug?”

“Yeah – and when I was accepted at Bristol Old Vic Theatre School and I didn’t have enough money for the fees and an outstanding grant from my Politics degree at York I spent a year out working and writing letters for assistance.  Thousands, I think it was.”  He laughed.  “I even wrote to Paul McCartney – but all I got was a letter back saying ‘Hey, thanks for the letter.  Here’s a badge.’  Well _thanks_ for that, Macca.”

Andy scratched his cheek and grinned.  “Can’t say as he was ever my favourite Beatle.  So what happened after that?”

“Franco Zefferelli came up to Derbyshire to film **_Jane Eyre_**   and I got a job as an extra – well, I was a _recurring_ extra, to be precise; I think I played about three different parts.  But they certainly got their money’s worth out of me – I’m all over that film like a rash.  And I was very annoying too – kept being a nuisance asking questions and stuff.  I think I made myself rather unpopular...”

"Can’t think why,” Andy replied softly, saluting him with his glass of wine.  “Sometimes asking questions is the only way to find out what you want to know...”

 *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk turns to more intriguing topics. And temptation begins to take hold.

By the time Andy and Richard had finished tucking into their chocolate and orange mousse with orange sauce at around 9.30pm, Joe Allen’s was full of people and noise, all accompanied by the arrival of the pianist who provided entertainment there most nights of the week.

The two men had sunk nearly two bottles of good Chianti and were feeling happy and replete, and Richard was content to slouch in his chair with his chin on his folded arms, watching his new friend drink his wine.  Without losing any coherence, Andy had become one huge smile as he’d got drunker on wine and conversation, which Richard found unaccountably charming – chiefly because he enjoyed talking with Andy and was happy that they could still carry on a conversation that hadn’t as yet deteriorated into nonsense about pointy hats under the fridge or being chased by giant wheels of cheese.

There was also the fact that there was something particularly troubling Richard and one question he was burning to ask – and it wasn’t long before Andy commented on the younger man’s furrowed brow.

“You okay, mate?” he asked, concerned, lifting his glass of Chianti to his lips.

Richard took a breath, and then the words were spoken.  “Is Sean Bean _really_ gay?”

Andy’s wine spluttered back into the glass as he began laughing.  “ _No_!” he exclaimed, grinning affably and not quite believingly at Richard.  “’ _Course_ ‘e’s not gay!”

“But _you_ said –”

Andy sighed and put his glass back on the table.  “Look, the truth is that during the filming of **_Lord of the Rings_** yes, he tried it.  Just once.  Didn’t really like it, didn’t do it again.  Does that answer your question?”

Glad that the restaurant was far too noisy for their conversation to be overheard, even though it was unlikely that anyone _would_ be interested in them, Richard shook his head and smiled hastily.  “I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just – well, I know all too well that being away from home on long shoots can be a lonely experience and relationships can form that you wouldn’t normally expect.”

“Well that’s right; we were out there for a hell of a long time and some of us longer than others.  But it wasn’t like everyone was going around shagging everyone else – although Elijah Wood did _try_.  Despite all the rumours to the contrary, filming **_Lord of the Rings_** _wasn’t_ one long orgy, it was fucking hard work!”

“I know, but...”

Andy took another healthy mouthful of wine and then studied Richard closely, his lips quirking up into a puckish grin.  “This Sean Bean thing’s really given you a bee in your barnet, hasn’t it!”

Richard grinned ruefully and spread his hands.  “I’m tiddly and things take on an added significance when I’m pissed.  No, _seriously_ , I just find it hard to take on board, that’s all.  I mean, Sean _Bean_ , for Christ’s sake!  So what happened?  _Who_ did he fuck, then?”

“D’you really want to know?”

“Well, yes!  Now that my interest’s been piqued...”

Andy leaned across the table conspiratorially.  “Okay, but just between us, right?”

“Right.”

“It was me,” Andy said, grinning almost shyly as he spread his hands outwards and shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of modest pride.  “ _I_ fucked him.”

Richard sat back in his chair as though he’d had all the wind knocked out of him.  “Well bugger me!” he exclaimed, aware that the mere idea of two such extremely masculine men fucking each other was mixing with the food and wine he’d consumed to produce a warm, sinuous sensation in the pit of his stomach.  He sat forward again, eyes wide with astonishment and his elbows on the table.  “How did _that_ come about?”

Andy smiled shyly and shrugged, leaning in closer to be very sure of not being overheard.  “We were all in the same bar one night and he was bored, and a bit pissed, and decided that he wanted to try it.  But while there were quite a few gay and bisexual guys working on the film, he was very particular about who he wanted to try it _with_ , if you get me.  Didn’t want anyone too ‘obvious’.”  Andy paused, clocking Richard’s enthralled, if bewildered expression before continuing.  “Didn’t want anyone too camp.  So he was talking to Ian McKellen about it and Ian said – and I swear this is true – ‘Why don’t you ask that Gollum person, Sean?  You know – the one with the magnificent physique?’”

“Well I must admit that from where I’m sitting it _is_ pretty spectacular,” Richard chuckled.  “Go on.”

“Thank you!  So anyway, Sean comes over – and at this point, Billy Boyd’s already come over and briefed me – and asks me if he can have a quiet word outside.  So we went outside, he asked me if I was okay about it, I said I was – well I _was_! – and that was it.  We went back into the bar, had a few more drinks, went back to my place – and then he shagged my brains out for the rest of the night.”

“What was it like?” Richard demanded, almost incredulous.  “I mean, I just can’t imagine Sean Bean...”

Andy shrugged and smiled.  “Not bad!  I mean, from the very start he made it clear that _he_ wasn’t going to be the one getting fucked, so it was good to have the ground rules laid from the off and _I_ sure as hell didn’t mind being fucked by Sean Bean.  He liked me wanking him, but he wasn’t too keen on kissing and he got a bit uncomfortable when I wanted to give him a blowjob.  He was up for it and he let me do it, but all the time I was sucking him off it was obvious it didn’t sit well with him.”  Andy chuckled, raising an amused eyebrow as Richard laughed absently, wide-eyed with bewildered fascination.  “He was _much_ happier with the shagging – so long as he could do it from behind and he didn’t have to look at me!  He wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed, just a bit shy about it, really – which was a bit odd, considering he fucked me not just through the mattress, but practically through the bed-frame as well.”

“I thought you said he didn’t really like it!”

“He _did_.  Well, he certainly liked the shagging me senseless bit, anyway – but not enough to want to try it again.  And at least he didn’t just piss off when it was all over – we even snuggled a bit.”

Richard’s smile was mischievous.  “Imagine _that_!”

“He was snuggly in a very _manly_ way,” Andy assured him with a wink.  “We parted on good terms the next morning, all best of friends, and that was it.”  He swallowed the last of the wine in his glass and poured another, filling Richard’s half-empty glass as he did so.  “Sean’s a good bloke.”

“Sean Bean,” Richard grinned.  “And _you._   Who’d’ve thought it!”

“Oh _do_ shut up,” Andy chided him playfully.  “You were the one who started all this!”

Richard’s eyes twinkled.  “Well _you_ were the one who seemed so bloody keen to tell me all the sordid details...”

“There was nothing sordid about any of it, let me tell you,” Andy replied, fixing Richard with an intense blue gaze.  Then he let out a soft bark of shy laughter.  “Well you _did_ ask, after all.  And I suppose I _have_ been showing off a bit.”

Richard shook his head, wondering why it was that he felt so envious of Sean Bean at that moment.  “Why shouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, but...”  Andy broke off, and began drawing patterns on the table once more.  “It’s a common thing, though, isn’t it?  Straight blokes wondering what it’s like to have sex with another man?”

“Not in Sheffield it isn’t,” Richard dead-panned.

Andy’s bright blue eyes fixed Richard with a challenging, almost flirtatious stare.  “Have _you_ ever thought about it?”

The teasing amusement in Andy’s voice was pushing buttons Richard didn’t want to admit to possessing.  “Meaning?”

“I’m just asking, Richard.  Well?  _Have_ you?”

Richard shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit out of his depth.  “Do I get a prize for giving the correct answer?”

“It’s not a quiz,” Andy said mildly.  “You don’t get to phone a friend or ask the audience.  I’m just curious.”

Richard shuffled uncomfortably.  “I suppose I must have – when you’re a teenager you wonder if you might not be attracted to girls after all and then, when you’re older and you have choices...”

“Yes, but have _you_ ever thought about it?” Andy persisted gently.

“Why d’you want to know?” Richard was defensive now.

“For fuck’s sake – it’s just a question!  One I thought was appropriate, given the topic of this conversation!”  Andy sighed and then gave Richard a puppyish look.  “Look, I’ve just told you all about me shagging Sean Bean, but _you’re_ suddenly playing the reluctant virgin!”

Richard laughed, looking rueful.  “It’s not a question I’m used to being asked.  But I suppose I must have, somewhere along the way.  Well of _course_ I have – I did a play called **_The York Realist_** where my character has a relationship with another man, so it was something I gave a bit of thought to then.”  He looked up at Andy, now curious.  “Why _are_ you so interested?”

Andy’s puppy-dog look deepened.  “Well fair’s fair, given that I’ve just told someone I don’t know all that well all about my sexual exploits.  You might at least _try_ and amuse me!”  His face softened.  “Or are you just not comfortable talking about it?”

“Not in public, I’m not,” Richard retorted – then sighed and smiled.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to – I mean, I – shit, I don’t know _what_ I mean!”

“You mean this isn’t really the time and the place for you to talk about it?”

Richard’s head slumped back onto his forearms on the table.  “Kind of,” he admitted, gazing up at the older man and wrinkling his nose apologetically.  “That and –”

He broke off, knowing that he didn’t want to say more – he wasn’t sure he _could_ say any more without having to admit how the conversation was feeding into the sensations and emotions already twisting inside him and the fact that he found the idea of Andy and Sean together incredibly arousing.  He couldn’t help picturing it in his mind, seeing their bodies moving as one and wondering what it would feel like if _he_ were the man in Andy’s arms, their bodies locked together in passion, and their limbs entwined...

_Oh God..._

“– The fact that I wasn’t very subtle.”  Andy raised his hands apologetically.  “Guilty as charged.  I’m so sorry – my mouth tends to run off with me when I’ve had a few.”

Andy’s repentant smile made Richard’s tummy flip over yet again.  “That’s okay,” he replied, forcing a laugh past the knot of something hungry and roiling in his chest.  “I’m a big boy now – I can handle it.  After all, I’m a grown man and I’ve taken off my clothes in public for a paying audience.  I’m just not used to such intimate revelations this early in a relationship!”

Andy squeezed Richard’s hand quickly, the touch of his warm, dry skin oddly comforting, and fixed Richard with another contrite smile, looking for all the world like a naughty schoolboy.  “Yeah, well – I apologise if I went too far.  Should mind my manners!  So what do you want to do now?  Stick around for a coffee, or...?”

Richard smiled wanly; suddenly the midsummer heat and the noise and the wine and his full stomach were overwhelming.  “I think I want to go home now,” he said, voice more plaintive than he would’ve liked.

Andy nodded.  “Whatever you want.  I’ll get us a cab once I’ve paid for the meal.”

“No!” Richard exclaimed, feeling guilty.  “Let me at least pay half!”

“My treat,” Andy replied firmly.  “My invite, after all.  You can stump up for the taxi!”

“Okay,” Richard nodded.  He stood up, swaying slightly with the effects of heat, alcohol and, to his surprise, something approximating to lust.  “Bugger.  I really need to go and get some fresh air.”

“Ooh, you sensitive little flower, Coyle!” Andy grinned as Richard shrugged on his jacket.

“It’s – the heat, you know, the –” Richard began.

Andy waved him away cheerfully.  “Be off with you!  Just don’t fuck off and leave me standing out there waiting for a taxi on my own like a twat!” he shouted at Richard’s back as he wove his way through the tables towards the stairs.

“I won’t!” Richard yelled back, sprinting up the stairs and the exit as best he could.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Richard felt better once he was outside and breathing in London fumes again.  As his head cleared, he tried to make sense of his feelings and why he was responding to Andy as he was.  Maybe all that talk of straight men imagining what gay sex felt like was hitting much too close to home.  In fact, it _was_ hitting too close to home – because imagining what gay sex felt like was _exactly_ what he’d been doing for quite some time now.

 ** _The York Realist_** had not only garnered Richard his very first acting award, it had also given him the opportunity to _really_ think about his sexuality – and he’d given it _much_ more thought than he’d been prepared to admit to Andy in the restaurant.  It wasn’t that he was _desperate_ to know what sex between two men felt like.  Certainly not anxious enough to want to go trawling bars or contact ads, he was just curious enough to be open to any possible suggestions from any friendly face who might ask – except that he wasn’t sure that he’d ever trust a stranger enough to accept any offers he might get.

Only now – now there was Andy Serkis.  And suddenly everything seemed infinitely more complicated.

He remembered Andy from **_Topsy Turvy_** as a gregarious, affable, hard-working actor whose dedication to his craft matched Richard’s own and for which Richard had admired him enormously – but they’d never spent any time in a more social situation and consequently their paths hadn’t crossed again until now.  He’d wondered at first if Andy would be different, wondered if the acclaim he’d received for his revolutionary portrayal of Gollum had changed him in any way – but he’d been relieved to discover find that Andy was much the same as Richard remembered him being back then.

Meeting a man who was still so grounded and natural and approachable even after the phenomenal success of **_Lord of the Rings_** was surprising enough – but to find out for himself that all the tales of Andy’s good nature, friendliness, and ability to talk for England were, if anything, understated was something that pleased Richard a great deal.  To find someone still so unaffected was very refreshing – and Richard found Andy’s nonchalance remarkably endearing.

But there was much, _much_ more to this now.  To say that Richard was attracted to Andy was an understatement – and it had nothing at all to do with the amount of wine he’d drunk.  It wasn’t just that the man was ridiculously handsome in a roguish, 50’s matinee idol way with his disarming smile, scrawl of dark curls, remarkable blue eyes and compact, muscled body.  It was the fact that his instincts told him that this was also a genuinely decent guy:  the rumour that Andy Serkis was one of the nicest blokes in the business seemed to him to be completely true.  Richard felt relaxed in Andy’s company, finding it easy to open up to a man with whom he felt so at ease despite such a short acquaintance.

And he couldn’t dispel those other thoughts that had crept into his mind over the course of the evening – the thoughts about making love to another man, the thoughts about what it would be like to feel a hot, hard cock inside him.  Merely something he’d chiefly mused upon before, his curiosity was much stronger now – and it was all the fault of Andy Serkis.

It was all Andy’s fault because Andy, with all his talk of a hot night of passion with Sean Bean, had planted images in Richard’s brain that were much too vivid and appealing for his liking.

It was all Andy’s fault because Andy was such a funny, friendly, approachable man and Richard felt sure Andy was someone who wouldn’t betray him.

It was all Andy’s fault because Andy was just so fucking handsome and so damned masculine and so bloody charismatic and so completely what he wanted.

In short, Richard had realised that he’d found the man he wanted to teach him how it felt to make love to another man.  Andy was the one man to whom he’d trust his body – and the thought both scared and exhilarated him.

His skein of thought was broken by Andy charging up the stairs behind him.

“Ready for the off, then?” Andy grinned, throwing an arm around Richard’s shoulders and giving him a blokey squeeze despite being a good four inches below Richard’s six-foot height.  Richard mumbled an affirmative and Andy nodded.  “Right you are!”  A black cab came towards them, “For Hire” sign illuminated, and Andy strode forward confidently, arm out-raised.  “This is us!” he grinned, nudging Richard as the vehicle indicated and then pulled in to the kerb beside them.

“How do you _do_ that?” Richard laughed, elbowing back.

Andy gave him a playful, smug look and sniffed.  “It’s a gift, mate – a gift.  Er – Crouch End, please,” he instructed the driver as he pulled open the cab door and clambered into the back, quickly followed by Richard.

“You’ll have to teach me the secret of successful taxi hailing!” Richard grinned as he settled down beside Andy and fastened his seat-belt.

“Any time,” Andy winked, as the cab pulled away from the kerb and set off into the London traffic.  “You still going my way, or d’you want to be dropped off somewhere else?

“Um – well, I –”

“– Tell you what,” Andy added conspiratorially, elbowing Richard gently again.  “That Chianti we had back there was all very nice, but back at home I’ve got a very nice bottle or several of Brunello – it’s a bit pricey, but it’s worth it.  I get it in specially from this little place in North Ken.”

Richard snorted gleefully.  “I never had you down as a man who procured his vintnery requisites from leafy Kensington!”

“Well there’s also a place in Brewer Street and another in Old Compton Street that I use quite a bit – they’re both close to Lou’s office so if I’m in town to see her, I’ll drop in to stock up on my way home.”  Andy’s eyes crinkled up in another engaging, boyish smile.  “Well I have to have _something_ on hand for when I fancy a change from the Stellas!”

Richard laughed.  “Oh, you know how to live, Serkis!”

“You’re damn right, I do,” Andy beamed, his grin threatening to swallow his ears.  “So, you coming back for a sample, then?”

Richard hesitated.  Yes, he’d felt the need to go home earlier because he’d briefly felt unwell, but to be honest, he really didn’t feel like going back to his empty house just yet.  Besides, there was something in the air that suggested that the night wasn’t over by a long chalk, and he wanted to take full advantage of whatever it still held in store.

It had occurred to Richard throughout the evening that Andy had been showing an interest in him that went beyond simply being friendly – it was part of what had encouraged those long-suppressed thoughts to resurface.  He suspected that he’d been flirted with in ways that went beyond mere social niceties, given all the gentle nudges about his sexuality; it was, he thought, as though Andy were making shy advances, probing and teasing delicately in order to gauge his reaction.  And Richard no longer thought that this was pure imagination on his part.  Because maybe Andy _was_ interested in him – and if he _was_...well, Richard wasn’t at all sure that he’d turn Andy down if he were to proposition him:  quite the opposite, in fact.  To his amazement, he was quite prepared – _willing_ for it to happen and would actually feel let down if Andy didn’t try to seduce him.

A low, friendly rumble of laughter and a light touch on the back of his hand brought his attention back to the present.  “Well, what d’you reckon?  You’re very privileged, you know – I don’t offer a drop of my Brunello to every Tom, Dick, or Harry.  But the odd _Richard_ is more than welcome!”

Richard laughed, wondering why he was feeling that warmth in his lower belly once more.  “You flatterer!”

“Yep,” Andy smirked, looking mischievous.  “A silver-tongued devil, that’s me!”

“A glass or two of Brunello, eh?  It’s very tempting!” Richard admitted.

Andy’s hand remained resting lightly on Richard’s for a few more moments, Andy’s skin rough and hot against Richard’s own.  Then Andy squeezed his hand gently, and patted the back a couple of times.  “Go on.  Give in.  You know you want to.”

“It would be nice,” Richard agreed, the skin across his knuckles feeling cold now without the warm weight of Andy’s palm upon it.  “I’m not quite ready to go home yet!”

“So what’s it to be, then?  A few samples from my well-stocked wine cellar, or have you had _enough_ excitement for one night?  Surely you can’t be ready for bed _already_!”

To his horror, Richard’s cock twitched violently, realising that there was a part of his brain already interpreting “ready for bed” as a sexual invitation that he very much liked the sound of, and for which his body was displaying an unhealthy enthusiasm.

Andy’s tone was affable and teasing, but Richard wasn’t sure how to respond.  He rubbed his chin slowly, the stubble rough against his fingers as he tried to weigh up what he should do.  Suppose he went home with Andy – what would happen?  Would it just be for a glass or two of wine and more chat, or would there be more to it?  Or was he simply misinterpreting Andy’s friendliness and unintentionally casting him in the role of a predatory bisexual man who wanted to jump him as soon as they were alone together?  He felt slightly ashamed of himself for even thinking something like that about Andy – and yet again the thought of even the possibility of intimacy with him was enough to start his heart racing once more.

And, if he was honest, he was _dreading_ having to go back to his lonely flat – not when there was the possibility of affable company for a while longer...and perhaps even the promise of something more...

“So – what d’you think, then?”  Andy’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Well – the night is still young, I suppose...”

“Young?” Andy exclaimed in mock surprise.  “ _Young_?  Fucking hell, it’s so young it’s not even on solids!”

Richard laughed and looked across at him.  Even in the light of the cab, Andy’s eyes were much too blue, much too penetrating, and much too intense.  “You working tomorrow?”

Andy shook his head.  “Nah, mate – got a clear weekend.  That’s why the prospect of having the mother of all hangovers tomorrow doesn’t fill me with terror.  You?”

“No, nothing planned.  Thought I might have a kick-about in the park with some mates perhaps, or maybe go down go Camden Lock Market or Portobello Road – see if there’s anything on the second-hand record stalls.  But other than that, no.”

Andy grinned.  “So come back to mine, then!  You can always crash on the sofa.”

“But isn’t there – I mean, won’t there – I mean – what if there’s –”

“– Someone waiting up for me?” Andy shook his head and smiled.  “Nah, I’m strictly single at the moment, mate.  Sworn off all that after Elijah Wood – _Christ_ the little fucker wore me out.  I’ve not been the same since!”

Richard’s mouth dropped open.  “You shagged Elijah Wood _too_?”

Andy pulled a rueful face.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  I didn’t get much say in the matter!”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


	3. Chapter 3

The traffic was surprisingly light on the way back to North London, and the cab was outside Andy’s house in Crouch End within 25 minutes.  After handing the cab driver a tenner and instructing him to keep the change, Andy pushed open the door and the two men scrambled out onto the pavement.

Soon Andy was leading Richard towards a house with a bus shelter in front of it that was being slowly swallowed up by an over-hanging bush.  Andy grunted at it as they headed up the drive and made threatening noises about having to trim it back before the neighbours started complaining again.

“Keep saying it’s a liability,” he grumbled.  “Keep saying it’s causing an obstruction.  Keep saying there’s a small family of mountain gorillas living in it...”

“And is there?” Richard enquired, tongue firmly in cheek.

“Nah, _course_ not – they’re _mountain_ gorillas, aren’t they – they’re _hardly_ gonna be suited to a semi-urban environment, are they?  Besides, what are they going to eat?  The Pizza Express down the road won’t take bananas as payment.” Andy grinned, those blue eyes twinkling naughtily.

“Maybe you’re being stalked by the one you said fell in love with you at London Zoo.”

“What – Zaire?”  Andy paused as he unlocked the front door.  “You know, that wouldn’t surprise me.  I’ve been _wondering_ about all the chewed branches around the garden and the strange footprints in the butter...”

Giggling, the two men piled in through the door and into the spacious hallway.  Andy took Richard’s jacket and hung it and his own on the row of hooks by the door, then went across to the wooden mezzanine staircase and sat down on then stairs to take off his trainers and socks.

Although the hall-way was still in semi-darkness and the only light from the street-lamp outside and a tall, graceful lamp near the door, Richard took the opportunity of taking in his surroundings as he fiddled with his shirt cuffs and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.  The feel of the hall was one of light and air, uncluttered as it was except for a telephone on a table by the banister, three council-provided plastic boxes full of papers, cans, plastic and glass bottles and jars for recycling, a selection of walking boots, Wellingtons, shoes, trainers, and long boots, and a small pile of dead leaves and sweet wrappers.  The floor was tiled in chess-board black and white, and the walls seemed to be some light blue colour.

Andy stood up, sighing contentedly at the feel of the cool tiles on his bare feet.  “Ready, then?” he asked, as he opened another door.  “Come on through to the kitchen.”

“Yeah, sure,” Richard replied, feeling less assured than he sounded as he followed Andy through a darkened passage made gloomy in the light from the dimly-lit kitchen and his shoes clattered on laminated wood stairs and flooring before striking more tiles.

The kitchen was, again, large and spacious, dominated by what looked like a huge farmhouse table with six matching chairs straight out of **_Emmerdale_** or some Tuscan hideaway, and with a gleaming array of appliances and work-tops running around the walls and herbs growing in pots on the windowsill.

Very much a man’s kitchen, Richard thought with an inner smile.  “Do you actually _do_ any cooking in here,” he asked innocently, “or do you just have the local Italian on speed-dial and a very vivid imagination?”

“I’ll have you know that I can rustle up a most excellent home-made pesto when required,” Andy retorted, ferreting in a drawer for a corkscrew.  “I grow me own basil, and there’s a lump of Parmesan the size of a breeze-block in the fridge.”  Finding what he wanted, he whirled round triumphantly, brandishing his corkscrew and grinning devilishly.  “Ready for a glass of _proper_ wine now, Mr Coyle?”

“I need a slash first,” Richard admitted.  “Where’s the...”

“...Turn left at the kitchen door, next door on your right.  And don’t turn off the light when you’ve finished – I could do with one, too.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Zipping himself up again and then flushing, Richard rinsed his hands under the cold tap, dried them, and then stared at himself in the mirror.  Sighing at his reflection, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the cool glass.  Oh God, the _last_ thing he needed now was more alcohol!  He already felt as though he might be out of his depth and all he really craved was a clear head.

“Do you mind if I skip the Brunello and just have a coffee?” he asked Andy’s broad shoulders as he ambled back into the kitchen.  “I don’t think I’d appreciate it on top of everything else.  My palate’s a touch jaded now.”

Andy turned and gave him a wry grin.  “Funnily enough, neither do I.  I guess you _can_ have too much of a good thing.  Mocha suit you?  It’s only one of those Nescafe instant mixes in a sachet, but it’s passable. Or would you prefer filter?  Or tea?”

“Tea would be great,” Richard replied gratefully, watching as Andy put the kettle on to boil and tossed tea bags at two mugs as though he were dealing cards and his aim appalling until irritation made him drop them into place properly before stomping off to the bathroom.

When he was alone again, Richard sat down at the head of the table, his back to the window.  He was beginning to experience that warm, deliciously teasing sensation in his lower belly once more, and he could feel himself becoming more aroused, his senses heightened and his skin taking on a sensitivity that made his clothes feel heavy and rough against his body.

Resting his head on his arms he let out a long sigh, and wondered yet again if he _really_ knew what he was doing.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Andy closed the blind at the kitchen window, dropped their spent tea-bags into the bin and their spoons into the washing-up bowl, and then came and settled down at the table next to Richard, his back to the work top.

“Nice cup of tea,” Richard smiled, lifting his mug.  “’A good strong brew’, as me mum would say.  ‘There’s nothing like tea when you’re thirsty’!”

“As long as it’s not too stewed,” Andy grinned.  “Fancy moving back upstairs into the living room?  The sofa’s a bit fucked, but it’s more comfy!”

Richard shook his head.  “Too knackered to move now.”

Andy laughed sympathetically.  “I’ll have to give you the guided tour later – though be glad it’s dark and you can’t see the back garden, mind.”

“How long you lived here, then?”

“Couple of years.”

“Been on your own all that time?  I mean, a bachelor pad and all that?” he added hastily, as Andy gave him a bemused look.

“What?  Oh, yeah.  People come and go and family come to stay, but – no one regular.  It would be nice, and I don’t think I’m _that_ difficult to live with, but I’m working so much that I just don’t have the time for relationships.  Not meaningful ones, anyway.  What about you?”

“Me?”

Andy smiled, his amazing blue eyes unsettlingly clear despite the wine the two men had drunk.  “Isn’t there someone waiting up for you?  I never asked!”

Richard laughed nervously, suddenly reaching into his trouser pockets.  “I never _did_ pay for the taxi, did I!”

“Oh, fuck the taxi fare and answer the question!” Andy grinned.  “Not keeping anyone up, am I?”

“Nah, I live on my own too.”

“Got anyone in your life, though?”

Richard made a great play of spluttering into his half-drunk mug of tea.  “Are you trying to seduce me, Mr Serkis, or are you just being fucking nosy?”  At that precise moment, he wasn’t sure which option he’d prefer – but his growing feelings of sexual arousal seemed to be making the choice for him.

“Which would _you_ prefer?” Andy countered with a wink and a grin.  “I’m easy either way.”

“Oh, we all know _that_!” Richard laughed shakily.  “Weren’t there any _women_ working on **_Lord of the Rings_** you fancied?”

Face beatific, Andy leaned back in his chair and sighed.  “I’d’ve crawled over broken glass for Liv Tyler if she’d asked me.”  He leaned forward again, chair legs landing back on the floor with a crash.  “But answer the question, Richie.”

Richard shook his head, feeling the buzzing in his ears and the way that the heat was growing between his thighs.  “I split up with someone about six months ago.  She was lovely, but it was just going nowhere.”  He shrugged.  “I haven’t been interested in looking for anyone else.  I’ve been quite happy with my own company.  But, you know...”

“...It would be nice if there was _someone_?”

“I guess so.  But it’s not been a big deal.  How the fuck did we get onto this subject anyway?”

Ignoring the question, Andy pushed his empty mug across the table.  “Bit like me, then.  Everyone thinks that if you’re not seeing anyone then you must be as miserable as fuck.”

“And sometimes you _can_ be.  But you get by.”

Andy tapped his mug with his index fingernail.  “You do, but...”  He looked straight at Richard, his eyes intense with curiosity.  “Does it scare you?  Being alone, I mean?”

Again Richard shrugged, rubbing the fingers of one hand against his messy curls.  “Usually I’m too busy to think about it – maybe that’s a reason for _keeping_ busy, so that I don’t have to think about it.  I’ve got lots of friends, so I don’t suppose I’m _lonely_ , but I don’t think I’d _always_ like to be on my own.  But I don’t cry myself to sleep every night because I’m single.”  He swallowed the last of his tea.  “Why, does it scare _you_?”

Andy chuckled, rubbing his chin with his knuckles.  “ _Sometimes_ it does.  But then I think well, I’ve got a successful career that I worked fucking hard for, I’ve got friends and family who love me and, occasionally, I’m lucky and find someone who’ll share my bed for a while.  And I’m still only in my early forties, so it’s not like I’m desperate.”

“...But it would still be nice to have something permanent?”

Andy’s face curled into a puckish leer that made Richard’s groin lurch alarmingly.  “Yes, if it means my wrist won’t ache so much...”

“Buy a splint for it, you filthy bastard,” Richard retorted with a smirk.  “Your wrist, that is.”

Andy flustered him with a lecherous wink.  “I’ll buy two, just in case – and a third for my cock...”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.  Plus there’s that fear of growing old alone.  It’s not something you ever think will happen to you when you’re a kid.”

Andy folded his arms and leaned on the table.  “Things seem so much more simple when you’re a kid though, don’t they?”

“The things you’re scared of certainly seem to be – like whether you’re going to get your head flushed down the bog on your first day at big school, that sort of thing.”  He tugged at his hair with a rueful expression.  “And when your hair’s already a bit of a bog-brush you just know the older kids are going to make you suffer.” 

“With me it was death and the Cybermen – which actually _sounds_ like a cool name for a **_Doctor Who_** story.  Now it’s worrying about the people I love – and about politics and global warming and the mortgage, and the traffic in London and crime and whether the work’ll dry up.” 

“Yeah, it all gets so much more amorphous when you’re an adult – lots of shades of grey where there just used to be solid blocks of colour.” 

“Back when the summers were hotter and longer and you could leave your doors unlocked and the winters were full of snow,” Andy chuckled softly.  “So what scares you now you’re a big boy?”

The answer slammed into Richard’s head at once.  _< The way I’m feeling about you right now, Andy – that’s what scares me.>_

He felt a sense of exhilaration at admitting it to himself, this acknowledgement that more than anything else in the world he wanted to be in Andy’s arms tonight.  Oh Christ, he wanted to say it out-loud – but where would be the sense in that?  So much for secretly praying for Andy to make a pass at him!  Again he’d picked up the feeling that the playful sexual banter between them had had an exploratory purpose – but now, when the chance was there to actually do some exploring of his own, his uncertainty was getting the better of him.

And it wasn’t just the possibility of _sex_ with Andy Serkis that excited him.  From the moment he’d sat down at Andy’s table and struck up a conversation with him Richard had felt something click inside him in a way that he hadn’t felt for – well, _ever_ , if he was honest.  He wasn’t _conscious_ of feeling incomplete and, the truth was, he didn’t think he _was_ incomplete – it was more a case of him being happy as a singleton, but feeling a need to have someone who, for want of a better word, complemented him and could be considered not just a lover, but also a soul-mate.  So he was genuinely surprised to be in the position of having to grasp the fact that _his_ soul-mate could quite conceivably be another man – and wasn’t at all sure that he knew how to deal with his feelings.

“Go on,” Andy was prompting him again.  “What scares you?”

“Oh, the usual stuff,” he hedged instead, aware from the look on Andy’s face that the expression on his own must be saying much more than his dismissive generalisation.  “Much the same as you, really.”

There was a pause, and then Andy sighed.  “Why do you _do_ that?”

Andy’s faint exasperation made Richard look up.  “What do you mean?” he retorted, his tone sharper than he would have chosen.

Andy sighed again and spread his hands wearily.  “When we get talking about something that you clearly aren’t comfortable with your shutters come down and I can’t get anything from you.  I tell _you_ things – some very _intimate_ things – and yet you give _nothing_ back until I’ve given you sufficient prodding.”

“Such as?” Richard demanded defensively, very much sobered up now.

“Well, like the fact that I told you pretty much every tiny detail about Sean Bean fucking me when you asked and, in fact, you kept _on_ about it – and yet when I asked _you_ a very simple, very innocuous question about your thoughts on your own sexuality it was like pulling fucking _teeth_.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed.  “I told you I wasn’t used to questions like that.”

“Bollocks.  _You’ve_ been around, _you’ve_ been asked questions like that before – don’t try and bullshit me.  I'd be _really_ surprised if you’ve never had anyone broach those subjects with you before in your life.  You’re a good-looking bloke, and you’re no giggling virgin, for fuck’s sake.  It’s like when I asked you if there was anyone waiting back at home for you or if you were with anyone – you changed the subject and didn’t answer me.”

Stung, Richard retaliated.  “But I _answered_!”

“Yeah – eventually!” Andy snapped back.  He smiled sadly.  “Richie, all I’m asking for is a bit of honesty – for you to be as honest with me as I’ve been with you.  I know we don’t know each other all that well, but is that _really_ too much to ask?  For fuck’s _sake_ , Richard – I like you a lot, we’ve much in common, and you’re my kind of bloke, but I _hate_ the way you’re bullshitting me.”

“I am _not_ bullshitting you.”  Richard folded his arms on the table, hunching over them as though for protection.  His head was spinning and something in the aggression in Andy’s voice was making the writhing, sensual knot inside him gather in strength.  “I’m _not_.  Why the fuck should I?  I’ve got nothing to hide.”  His breathing was growing more rapid and shallow and he was ashamed to feel his voice cracking on his words.  “ _Nothing_.”

“Nothing?” Andy repeated mildly.  “What are you running away from?  What are you _really_ so uptight about?  Okay, so maybe it’s _my_ problem for expecting everyone to be as upfront – or maybe tactless – as I can be sometimes, but I’m really quite surprised at you.”  He laid his hand on Richard’s shoulder and, even though the touch was gentle, to Richard it felt as if his shoulder was now on fire.  “What is it you’re not telling me?  What’s so difficult about being honest with me?  Am I _that_ intimidating?”

Closing his eyes, Richard dropped his head and sighed heavily.  _< Oh fuck, I can’t do this – I’m a grown man and I can’t go on insulting him by running away every time he asks me something that I'm too fucking embarrassed to talk about.  I know what I hoped for when I came here, and I can’t – won’t be a coward any more.>_

“Well of _course_ I’m scared by the same things you are – I want to still be acting when I’m 65, but will I still be getting the work?  I’m scared by what’s happening in the world around me – by what we’re doing to it, and to each other – of _course_ I am.  But what scares me on a more _personal_ level, it’s...well, if you want honesty, then you’ll get it.  I just – don’t want to come across to you as a fuck-wit, that’s all.”

Andy patted Richard’s shoulder.  “Fucking hell, I don’t see _that_ happening,” he laughed, blue eyes wide but kind.

Richard swallowed hard, and then plunged on.  “The thing is, I – I think I’ve got myself into a situation I shouldn’t be in.  I’m in it and I’m in too deep; I’m in way over my head and I’ve just got this feeling that it’s all going to blow up in my face.”

“D’you wanna tell me about it?  P’raps I can help.  D’you want another mug of tea?  Or something stronger?”

“No, I – _no_!  I – look, you asked me what I was scared of.  And the thing is...”  Richard shook his head.  “It would probably take too long to tell you.  Just as I’m sure it would take you hours to tell me what it is that scares _you_ sometimes, when you wake up in the middle of the night and you’re alone with your thoughts and you’re wondering about how if the universe is infinite and yet it’s expanding, what’s it expanding into – and did I turn the oven off and is that just a cat or a fox in the back garden or is it a burglar and – oh fuck, this is all dying on its _arse_!”

Richard grunted in frustration and buried his face in his hands.  Without a word, Andy pushed back his chair and stood up, going to the cupboard to get two glasses, and then filling them with M&S sparkling water.  Richard took the glass he was handed and drank half of it down thankfully, savouring the slightly sulphurous taste as it hit the back of his throat.

Andy sat back down beside him, taking a swig from his glass and then watching the carbonated bubbles rise to the surface as Richard rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and then slid his hands down his face, trying to gather his thoughts.  He was aware of Andy’s stillness beside him, and felt soothed by it, grateful for the odd sense of security and companionship of secrets already shared.

“What’s my _greatest_ fear?”  Richard considered the question.  “I don’t know; I have _loads_ of fears.  I could be here all _day_ with my fears – listing them, describing them.  Like _most_ people, I suppose,” he shrugged, all too aware of how his words were starting to tumble recklessly from his lips.  “But one of the big ones is regret.  I don’t want to have any regrets – _that_ makes me scared.  Life’s too short for regrets, I always think.”

Andy nodded.  “I’d go along with that.  But where does this all fit in?”

There was nothing else for it.  Richard inhaled deeply and then released the breath slowly, glad of the way it calmed him and cleared his head.  “Okay, so it’s all a bit arse about face, but it’s like this.  I don’t want to die with any regrets – well, I don’t want to die full-stop, actually, but I certainly don’t want to have any regrets when I die.  I don’t want to regret anything I’ve done or have regrets about anything I’m ashamed of doing.  But by the same token, I don’t want to have any regrets about things I haven’t done, but wanted to do.  And – I can’t keep fobbing you off, Andy; it’s completely out of order.”

Andy smiled.  “You’re tired of being prodded.”

“Hmm.”  Richard’s grin was sardonic.  “Perhaps not a good choice of phrase in the circumstances,” he observed, noting the way Andy responded to the comment with a raised eyebrow.  _< I wonder if he’s guessed what’s bothering me?>_  He took another swig of water, suddenly wishing it were something stronger.  “There’s – something I have to ask you.”

“That sounds a bit ominous!”  Another encouraging grin.  “Go on.”

Glad of the cover offered by the semi-dark of the low-lit kitchen, Richard rubbed his hands over his face once more, and then pushed his fingers through his hair, making his thick mop of curls stick up awkwardly.  “I – ” he began, before sighing loudly and rocking backwards and then forwards on his chair, his palms slapping down on the table as though declaring his intention to unburden himself.  “Look, what I want to know is – I know this sounds fucking stupid, but – have you been flirting with me tonight?”

Andy’s eyes seemed wider than ever.  “Do what?”

“I – I know, I know, it sounds crass, but – _have_ you?”

Andy smiled, looking puzzled.  “ _Not_ the question I was expecting, but – well, _yes_ , I suppose I have.  Well – oh, fuck it.  Yes, I have.”

“Why?”

“ _Why_?”  The older man’s face was a picture of perplexity now.  “Well – I – it’s – it’s what I _do_!  I – fuck me, what a fucking difficult question to answer!  It’s – well, it’s the way I _am_!”

“So you’ll flirt with anything with a pulse, then?  You don’t mean anything by it?”

Thrown even more now, Andy took in a deep breath, then pursed his lips and blew out a stream of air.  “I wouldn’t say _that_.  I mean, I don’t do it in the greengrocers, say, unless I know I can get 10p knocked off me sprouts, but – in _social_ situations with fun, friendly people...well – yes, I _do_.  I _love_ it.”

“But it doesn’t _mean_ anything?” Richard insisted.

“It means I _like_ whoever I’m flirting with,” Andy retorted, eyebrow arched in minor irritation.  “I don’t flirt with wankers or someone who’s not going to enjoy it and play the game back.”

“So you’ve been flirting with me all night?”

“I – Christ!  _Yes_ , for fuck’s sake!”

“Has it – have you – perhaps been doing a little _more_ than just flirting?”

“I – _what_?”

“I mean...do you – find me attractive?”

“I’d laugh if I didn’t think you were being so serious.  What the fuck is that supposed to _mean_?”

“Do you find me attractive, Andy?”

Andy paused, his face suddenly softening.  “Well...yes, I do, as it happens.  Didn’t I say so earlier?”

Richard started drawing on the table with his finger.  “So...if you find me attractive – just... _how_ attractive, exactly?  What I’m trying to say is – like back in the taxi earlier, and some of the things you were asking me in Joe Allen’s – have you been trying to get off with me?”  And then he was mentally smacking himself hard around the back of the head, appalled at sounding like some randy teenager.

“And would it bother you if I have?”

“No, but I’d like to know for sure.”

Andy pushed his glass of water to one side with a sigh.  “Look, what _is_ this all about?” he asked gently, folding his arms.  “Why don’t you just cut the crap and cut to the chase?”

Mind still furiously trying to fashion what it was he wanted to say and trying to ignore the way that Andy’s folded arms emphasised his impressive biceps, Richard crossed his own arms defensively and leaned on the table with his elbows.  “What I want to know is,” he said after a pause, “– is if you find me _sexually_ attractive?”

Andy looked up at Richard through his eye-lashes and Richard thought he’d spontaneously combust.  “I find you _very_ sexually attractive.”

“Enough to want to fuck me?”

Andy’s lips quirked into another devilish smile.  “Yeah, enough to want to fuck you,” he growled softly.

Feeling as though he’d been punched in the stomach, Richard nodded, glad to see the warmth and compassion in Andy’s eyes and glad that the words had been spoken.  “And _do_ you want to fuck me?”

Andy’s answer was emphatic, his voice rough and low.  “Oh _Christ_ yes!  If you wanted me to, I’d do it in a heartbeat – over this fucking table, if need be.  Is _that_ what you want?”

Richard tried to control the sudden torrent of feelings inside him, fighting against the hammering of his heart and the way his breath caught in his throat as the sound of the blood pulsing through his veins deafened him.  His mind was racing, and yet everything seemed to be in slow motion as though he were watching himself from a great distance – as though he were in bullet-time.

“Oh yes, I want you to fuck me,” he confessed, voice barely above a rough whisper, and aware of how much more pronounced his lisp was now.  “It’s not the first time I’ve thought about being fucked by another man, you were right.  I _do_ want to know what it feels like to be with a man.  What it feels like to be with _you_.  Have done since you first told me about you and –”  He shook his head, half-drunk with desire and relief.  “No.  Don’t want to talk about him.”  He stared up at Andy, trying to regain control of himself.  “I want to know what it’s like to fuck another man – but I don’t want it to be with anyone else but you.  So will you fuck me?  Tonight?”

Smiling, Andy reached across to touch Richard’s hand.  “Is this what you meant when you said you felt out of your depth?” he asked gently.

“Yes – because I didn’t know how to ask – and because I thought you’d be offended.”

“Not offended at all – _flattered_ , more like.  Christ – I’m glad we _didn’t_ have that third bottle of wine!”

“...Because I know it’s a bit heavy to just ask someone out of the blue – I mean, I don’t know you all that well, and – ”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’d never met before.”

Richard stared at him, a foolish grin spread across his features.  “So you’re okay with it?”

“’Course I am!”  Andy ruffled his own curls and grinned sheepishly, looking as though he still couldn’t quite believe his ears.  “Fuck _me_.  I’ve been propositioned before, but – fucking _hell_!  I’ve never been asked to be someone’s first time before and I’m – fucking hell, I’m – fucking _flattered_!”  He laughed again, his eyes warm.  “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped you might be willing to give me a try.”

Richard blushed and giggled nervously.  “Everyone succumbs to my puckish charm in the end!”

“Your _what_?” Andy teased, trying to take the sting out of Richard’s apprehension.  “Oh, your _puckish_ charm, I see...”

“I’m – just nervous – no – _terrified!_ ”

“It’s okay, we’re in no hurry,” Andy soothed him.  He took Richard’s hand again and squeezed it lightly.  “I want you to know that you can trust me to be gentle with you – all you need to do is relax and let me guide you through it and I’ll make sure your first time is a good one.  We don’t have to rush this, you know – we’ve got all night.”

 _All night_...  Oh Christ.

His mind in turmoil, Richard could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage as though it wanted to smash its way out.  “So – what happens now?”

“Take it all very slowly,” Andy replied softly.  “You’ve never done this before and I don’t want to push you too far too fast.”  He took Richard’s hands in his, noticing how much the younger man was trembling.  He studied Richard’s face, noting the mixture of arousal and a need for reassurance in his eyes.  “Perhaps we should start by seeing how you feel about kissing me?  If you don’t like _that_ , then there’s no point in going any further, and I won’t push it.”

“Well...okay,” Richard mumbled through a shy grin.  “I like kissing.”

“Me too,” Andy smiled, looking up through his eyelashes.  “So why don’t you kiss me now?”

Something in Andy’s smile left Richard almost breathless.  Aroused and excited beyond his expectations, he felt almost wholly detached from everything around him, though the pounding in his ears was almost painful now.  Swallowing hard, Richard clung to Andy’s hands and leaned in awkwardly towards him, his eyes fixed on the older man’s mouth, praying that he wouldn’t bump noses with him as he pressed his lips to Andy’s.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


	4. Chapter 4

At first it was simply a matter of pressing their mouths together, pursing their lips gently as an exercise in tender familiarisation.  For Richard, kissing Andy didn’t feel as strange as he’d feared it would.  There were the things he’d expected, such as the unfamiliar scent and taste of masculinity; but even the things he hadn’t, such as the slightly rougher texture of Andy’s mouth and the faint scratch of Andy’s beard, felt natural and uncomplicated.

No – not _just_ natural and uncomplicated, but as it _should_ be.  Something in Richard was whispering about contentment and peace and being “home” and all manner of other cheesy clichés which would normally have him raising a weary eyebrow but which tonight felt true and honest.  He’d wanted this to be a one-off experiment, just to finally get that curiosity about gay sex out of his system – but it didn’t look as though he was going to get off as lightly as he’d expected.  There was chemistry between himself and Andy that he wanted to explore and – yes – exploit if Andy was equally willing, and an impulse decision to go for coffee at Joe Allen’s now seemed to be the means by which his life was going to change irrevocably tonight.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Their eyes closed as they kissed, the two men might just as well be a million miles away from Crouch End.  Apart from their breathing and soft kisses there was no sound in the kitchen except for the rattle and hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the far wall and a faint sound of traffic and voices from the main road.  Richard’s hands, fingers still entwined with Andy’s, felt hot, moist, and gritty, and the weight of his kisses was growing stronger.  _God_ but Andy’s mouth felt wonderful beneath his own lips – warm, yielding, but with just enough of a hint of firmness to make him want to press even harder, his tongue yearning to push into Andy’s mouth.

A soft growl of pleasure from Andy made Richard lean closer still and begin to move his lips against Andy’s, feeling the serpent’s tongue flicker of need in his belly as Andy responded and their mouths began to move against each other more hungrily.  Richard released his hands from Andy’s and, moving closer still, cupped Andy’s head in his hands, his fingers pushing into the thick, heavy curls.  Opening his mouth, he parted Andy’s mouth with his own and ran his tongue across the older man’s lips.  At once Andy’s tongue licked across Richard’s mouth in reply and the kiss deepened, as Andy reached out and began to stroke Richard’s flanks with firm but gentle hands.

Before long Richard and Andy were kissing each other with a passion that made Richard want to melt and flow into him.  His cock was already stirring and he gasped and groaned in surprised delight when Andy briefly pulled away and began to plant, rough, stubble-scratching kisses along his jaw-line and throat.  Teeth nipping carefully, Andy’s mouth was busy for some moments before he began licking his way across Richard’s neck and chin and moving up to settle on Richard’s mouth once more, tongue roughly pushing its way between his lips and past his teeth.

Warmth and softness and moistness and firmness – that was all Richard’s mind was registering, along with Andy’s low growls of pleasure and his own guttural moans.  He loved kissing women, there was no doubt about it; but _this_ was so much more “him” and he didn’t want it to end.  Not when Andy’s curls felt so natural wrapped around his fingers and their mouths fitted together so well, with only the occasional over-eager nose or chin bump to make them giggle softly and kiss the afflicted spots.  Not when the feel of Andy’s beard against his skin felt like the most erotic and desirable sensation in the world.

But the need to come up for air was acute now and, reluctantly, Richard pulled away from Andy and tried to catch his breath.  A burgeoning erection pressing uncomfortably against his thigh, Richard simply sat and stared at Andy wide-eyed, breathing heavily and his lips and tongue feeling swollen and slightly numb.  He wondered if Andy felt the same way he did – giddy and as horny as hell.  But one look at the glazed expression in Andy’s eyes and the rapid rise and fall of his chest made it clear that he shared Richard’s arousal.

At once Richard was on his feet, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks and ungainly with haste, and with Andy a few seconds behind him.  “Where do we go now?” Richard demanded, barely able to get the words past uncooperative lips that just wanted to start kissing again.

Andy placed a hand on Richard’s shoulder.  “Sofa,” he replied gruffly, free-hand fingers reaching up to bury themselves in Richard’s shaggy mop of hair.  “In the lounge.  Back through there.”

They kissed again, hungrily, and Richard grabbed Andy’s hand, pulling him towards the kitchen door – but after taking just a few paces Andy was tugging Richard back, slipping his arms up between Richard’s and seizing him by the shoulders, one hand pushing at the back of Richard’s neck as he lifted his head for yet more kisses.  And again Richard was lost, wrapping his arms around Andy and gathering the older man in against him.  The warmth and solidity of Andy’s body and the feel of Andy’s very obvious erection against his own combined to make each caress burn and his mind to grow more befuddled.

“Lounge...sofa?” Andy suggested again, his breath hot and his voice guttural against Richard’s ear.

“No, not sofa.  Can’t wait.  Bedroom... _now_!”  Richard pulled free and grabbed Andy’s hand once more and, half-blind with lust, led him into the passageway.  “Bedroom.  Where is it?”

Andy flapped a hand vaguely to the left as Richard reached down and began kissing him frantically once more.  “Up that way,” he muttered between responding to Richard’s hungry mouth on his own, guiding him in the right direction with his body.  “Upstairs an’ then – oh fuck, I’ll show you.  ’S a light on.  Careful you don’t fall over the pile of books on the landing...”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

“This is crazy,” Richard mumbled against Andy’s cheek as they stumbled blindly up the stairs.  “I can’t believe I’m doing this!”

Andy steered him into the bedroom, catching the pile of books with his heel and sending them flying.  “It’s still not too late to back out,” he assured the younger man.  “You can say no if you’ve changed your mind.”

Returning Andy’s eager kisses, Richard grasped Andy’s torso tighter and swung him further into the room as he looked round for the bed.  “Fuck off.  I _want_ this.  There’s no way I’m backing out now.”

And then he caught the backs of his calves against the edge of the double bed and lost his footing, falling backwards across it with Andy landing on top of him, driven by the momentum of their movement and knocking the breath from Richard’s lungs with a forceful “ _Hoof_!”

“You okay?” Andy panted, rolling off him.

“Be fine in a minute,” Richard replied.  “Just getting my breath back.”

Andy dropped kisses on his forehead.  “Well just don’t take all night about it,” he scolded him gently.  “I’ve got plans for you.”

“Plans?” Richard gasped, feeling his cock twitch violently.

“Plans,” Andy nodded, eyebrow raised briefly, before he laid more soft kisses on Richard’s cheek.

“What _kind_ of plans?” Richard enquired breathlessly.

“Oh, far too many to mention at this moment in time,” Andy shrugged, fingers teasing at the buttons of Richard’s shirt.  “But I’m looking forward to finding out how you’ll like it when you’re flat on your back and I’ve got your cock in my mouth.”

“Oh _Christ_!”  Richard’s hips jerked instinctively as the image of Andy sucking him off flashed through before his eyes with little ceremony.  “Oh fucking _hell_!”

“All in good time,” Andy grinned, kissing Richard’s shocked open mouth and nestling up against him, his hand warm and comforting against Richard’s hip.  “Don’t worry,” he added, nuzzling at Richard’s shoulder and stroking the younger man’s face with his thumb.  “Just relax, Richard.  There’s nothing to be scared of, and it’s going to be okay, because I’m not going to take things too far too fast.”  He wrapped his free arm around Richard’s shoulders and grinned as he gave him a reassuring squeeze.  “Don’t forget I’ve been where you are now, Richard.  I mean, Christ knows it was a _very_ long time ago now, but I do still remember what _my_ first time was like!”

“Richard.”  Still panting, Richard peered at Andy, his brow furrowed.  “You’re calling me ‘Richard’, now, and you’ve been calling me ‘Richie’ all night.  Why so formal all of a sudden?”

Andy laughed and squeezed Richard again, making the younger man giggle and wince.  “Well this _is_ a solemn occasion, you daft fucker!  You only lose your virginity once, after all!”  Andy paused theatrically.  “Well – okay, _twice_ in our case, but...”

Still slightly winded but now feeling only a little less over-excited, Richard lay quiet for a moment, deliciously aware of Andy’s hand on his body and taking in Andy’s bedroom as he let his mind and breathing settle.  Though now only lit by an Art Deco-style standard lamp and the light coming through partly-open bamboo slatted window blinds, Richard could see that the room was large, airy, and spacious, taking up quite a lot of the storey’s floor space.  Rugs covered wooden flooring and there was an en-suite bathroom and a minimum of furniture comprising of a broad, full-length mirror, unfussy storage cabinets, and a tall, dark-wood wardrobe.  Clothes were draped over serious-looking exercise equipment in one corner and there were painted canvasses and rugs or wall hangings of Middle Eastern design hung up on the walls.

And then Andy was gently kissing his neck and jaw and interior decoration ceased to be an urgent topic of thought.  Assailed by careful licks, nibbles, and firm, probing fingers working their way under his shirt, Richard closed his eyes and sucked greedily at Andy’s tongue whenever their mouths met, his hands cautiously stroking the older man’s body and his instincts yelling at him that _this was right; this was how it was meant to be_.  Kissing Andy was too easy, too comfortable, too – _pleasurable_.  There was nothing now but warmth and darkness and unspoken promises.

Andy pressed closer and the heat from his body and his obvious arousal, the hard erection digging into Richard’s body, made Richard groan with pleasure, earning him a low rumble of laughter, deeper kisses, and hands that were reaching for places Richard wasn’t sure he was ready to have touched.  But he couldn’t stop himself shivering as Andy gathered him more firmly in his arms and then began caressing him through his clothes; with each touch of the confident hands and mouth Richard’s mind was filled with ever more vibrant images of the two of them sucking and fucking each other, all hands and lips and hair...

And Christ, but Andy was a great kisser – very much in command and dominant and _ohgodlikethis waytoomuch_ and oh god, he loved not being in control.

They lay there together for what seemed like hours, breath warm against each other’s faces, mouths and tongues exploring and hands caressing, until Andy’s fingers reached for the buttons on Richard’s shirt.  As the buttons came undone, Richard gasped and closed his eyes – and then he was squeezing them tighter still as Andy pulled the shirt open and began kissing his naked chest.  When Andy’s lips closed over his left nipple and began to suck gently, Richard shuddered and found himself winding his hand into Andy’s curls, pulling him closer and whimpering as Andy’s rough tongue teased the nipple to hardness.

“Oh god...oh _god!_ ” Richard groaned, half-insensible as Andy worked at first his shirt buttons and then his right nipple in turn, his long fingers impatient as they pulled the garment from Richard’s body and then tossed it onto the floor in a heap of purple cotton.

There was a pause, and then Andy let out a soft whistle of appreciation.  “Oh Christ, you’re _beautiful_ , Richie!” he whispered, brushing first his lips and then his fingers over the soft, rounded muscles of Richard’s arms and chest.  “Absolutely beautiful!” he sighed, lowering his mouth to Richard’s nipples once more.

The sensation of Andy’s mouth and tongue against his flesh made it seem as though their nerve endings were connected directly to Richard’s groin.  Hands scrabbling, Richard grabbed at the hem of Andy’s black t-shirt.  “Get – this – _off_ ,” he panted, both scared and exhilarated by his feelings of impatience.  “ _Now_!”

Andy pushed himself up and sat back on his haunches across Richard’s thighs.  Richard, chest heaving, stared up at the vision above him as Andy, grinning impishly and his eyes seductive, crossed his arms and seized hold of the bottom of his t-shirt, stripping it off over his head in a heartbeat.  “Oh _fuck!_ ” Richard’s tongue suddenly seemed several sizes too big for his mouth and his entire face went slack.  “Oh fuck.  Oh, _fuck_.  Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _fuck_!”

Richard was sure that he’d lost all control of his muscles and thought processes.  He couldn’t take his eyes off Andy’s amazing upper body; the chest, darkened with thick curling hairs, all curving, solid muscle, and the arms and shoulders with rounded, bulging muscles that made Richard think of the rolling Quantocks and Mendips countryside he remembered from his days at the Bristol Old Vic.  Andy’s body was definitely a landscape he wouldn’t mind becoming intimately acquainted with at the first available opportunity:  his cock throbbed ecstatically at the thought.

And then his eyes were drawn down by the trail of hair that narrowed towards Andy’s belly to Andy’s ample, denim-clad thighs and the very obvious bulge at his groin.

Taking a deep breath, Richard held up his arms.  “Come here,” he gasped.  “Now.  _Please_!” he added with a groan, trying to stop himself burying his fingers irremovably in Andy’s hair and hanging on for dear life as Andy kissed his mouth quickly before kissing and licking his way across Richard’s nipples and chest.  When his fingers slid down towards the waistband of Richard’s trousers, the younger man undid the button on them and closed his eyes, swallowing hard and panting.

Andy slowly drew down the zip and then slipped his hand down and into Richard’s briefs, cupping Richard’s hard cock with care.  “A nice handful,” he chuckled, easing the hard, sleek muscle from the confines of clothing before slipping his free arm under Richard’s neck and kissing him tenderly on the forehead.  He folded his fingers around the younger man’s erection and began to masturbate him, his movements little more than a gentle caress as he pressed kisses on Richard’s right shoulder and upper arm.  Richard gasped and clutched at Andy’s arm, gently lifting his hips with the rhythm of Andy’s strokes until he was harder than ever.

With one last caress, Andy took his hand from Richard’s cock and then moved away, sliding his hand gently down Richard’s leg, until he was kneeling over him once more.  Taking the waistbands of Richard’s trousers and briefs in his hands, Andy pulled slowly and, with Richard again lifting his hips instinctively, tugged both garments down over the younger man’s legs and feet, leaving him naked and impatient on the covers.  Dropping Richard’s clothes on the floor, Andy curled up on the bed, his head at the level of Richard’s groin, and then lifted Richard’s cock to his mouth; holding it carefully in one big hand, he began to lick and suck on it.

Richard was sure he could hear himself whimpering as he pressed his fingers into Andy’s curls once more.  As Andy raised and lowered his head and his tongue flicked and probed around the head of his cock, Richard knew he wasn’t going to last very long – inevitable when he was with a man who _really_ knew what he was doing and he was so absurdly turned on.  Sure enough, he’d barely had time to formulate the thought that he was getting his cock expertly sucked by another man when his mind was blanking out and he was climaxing with surprised gasps and yelps as Andy brushed his free hand across his chest and his mouth and lips took him all in.

When he finally opened his eyes again, Andy was nowhere to be seen.  Torn between the feeling of nervous excitement that still churned in the pit of his belly and post-orgasmic lassitude, Richard looked round for him anxiously and was relieved to see Andy padding out of the bathroom.  He then saw the tube of KY Jelly and pack of condoms in Andy’s hand and his tummy flipped over.  It really _was_ going to happen, then – Andy really _did_ want to fuck him, and he couldn’t wait.

Andy looked up and caught his glance.  “For later,” he smiled gently, brandishing the lube and condoms.  “Got to be prepared and all that.”

“Prepared?” Richard blinked sleepily.

Nodding, Andy threw the lube and condoms onto the bed and began to unfasten his belt.  “Got to make sure everything’s all nice and slippery, so that when I fuck you it doesn’t hurt – and the condoms are for your own peace of mind.  First time, and everything.”

“W-what?  Oh, yes, yes – of course.” Richard stammered, too busy focussing on the words _when I fuck you_ and the sight of Andy undoing his jeans to take in anything else.  The realisation hit him like a sobering slap to the face.  Oh god, Andy _was_ undoing his jeans.

Suddenly Richard’s cock began to twitch again; he knew he was staring, but who could blame him?  He felt safe, comfortable, and wholly relaxed.  In the soft light of the semi-darkened bedroom, everything seemed slightly unreal and dreamlike – and the sight of such a masculine half-naked man standing in front of him was doing things to his groin that he’d never have believed possible.

And then Andy’s zip was undone and he was pushing his jeans down to the floor and stepping out of them – and as he straightened up, all Richard could do was stare at the other man’s legs and broad, powerful thighs – and the long, thick, semi-erect penis that bobbed invitingly between them.  He licked his lips and swallowed hard, wondering how the hell he was expected to take all of something that size inside him.  And then he was thinking of just how much he’d like to _try_...

He raised his eyes again, and his glance met Andy’s.  “Well _you_ weren’t at the back of the queue when they were handing _those_ out,” he laughed nervously.

Andy looked down, and stroked the underside of his penis gently with the flat of his hand.  “Not had any complaints up to now,” he grinned, winking amiably at Richard.  He held Richard’s gaze.  “Are you ready?”

Richard smiled back, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.  “Of course.”

But as Andy lay back down beside him and wrapped strong arms around his body, Richard sighed.  “I’m lying, of course!  I’m scared shitless, Andy – but I still _want_ this.”

“I’m glad,” Andy nodded, his curls brushing Richard’s forehead.  “Because I want _you_.  And there’s nothing to be scared _of_ , because I’m going to take care of you.”

“Mmmmn,” Richard smiled as Andy kissed him, their tongues moving gently against each other.  He wound his arms around Andy’s neck, burying his fingers once more in tousled curls and loving the way that their bodies felt together.  “Well I didn’t want you to think that I do this kind of thing all the time.  I really _haven’t_ done this before, Andy.”

Andy smiled.  “I _can_ tell, you know!”  He stroked Richard’s back soothingly.  “We could shower together first, if you like, or have a bath – to make sure you’re well and truly relaxed.”

Richard shook his head vehemently.  “I’m all for a slow build-up, but I couldn’t bear to tease this out any longer – I want you to fuck me!”

Andy nudged Richard’s shoulder with his bristled chin.  “You don’t fuck around much when your mind’s set on something,” he chortled.  He stroked Richard’s hair.  “Maybe later then,” he added, grinning as he nibbled and kissed his way down Richard’s neck and shoulder.

Richard chuckled, kissing him back.  “Only if you promise not to do anything unmentionable to me with your loofah.”

“I’m planning to do that _before_ we shower,” Andy sniggered cheerfully, winding his legs around Richard’s and wrapping his arms around Richard’s body.

As Andy pulled him closer, Richard trembled, loving the way that Andy made him laugh and the way it felt to be held in Andy’s arms when the laughter came.  Indeed, Richard was aroused beyond all telling by the sensation of being held in an intimate embrace by this very masculine man.  Andy, he mused, was very intense – but in a _good_ way.  He’d learnt that when you met Andy and spent time with him, you couldn’t ignore the incredible energy and verve and powerful intensity that radiated from him and here, lying naked in his arms, Richard was still very conscious of the fact.  He found it oddly reassuring, as though it proved that Andy would keep his word about treating him gently, and Richard relaxed even further.

“Hey,” Andy murmured as he began to cuddle Richard and nuzzle his neck, fingers reaching for the younger man’s groin.  “You’ve got a great cock, Richie.  Nice and chunky.  If you like, I’ll suck you off again later – _properly_ , this time.  You seemed to like it when I did it before...”

“ _Please_!” Richard moaned, pressing his groin against Andy’s and whimpering at the feel of the older man’s erection against his stomach.  “Oh yes please!”

Andy kissed him, his mouth slow and languorous against Richard’s.  “Are you ready for me to fuck you now, or do you want to wait a bit longer?”

In the middle of kissing him back, Richard swallowed hard.  “Don’t want to wait,” he murmured.  “Might chicken out!”

“Not if _I_ can help it you won’t,” Andy reassured Richard as he reached behind himself and felt around for the tube of KY and the condoms.  “I’m going to talk you through it every step of the way.  It’s going to be fine, I promise you.”  He took one of the condom packets and tore it open; he unrolled the condom and then took Richard’s hand, folding the younger man’s fingers around his erection.  “Stroke me slowly – here, like this.  Get me even harder for you.”

Shaking with nervous excitement Richard obeyed, feeling Andy’s cock get thicker and harder against his palm and fingers, until Andy stilled him and began to unroll the condom over the tip of his erection.  Mouth dry, and throat tight with arousal, Richard couldn’t take his eyes off Andy’s hand as he slid the soft latex down over his skin and then uncap the KY before taking Richard’s hand and squeezing a generous amount into his palm.

“Here,” Andy smiled, placing Richard’s hand around his cock again.  “Make me all wet and slippery, eh?”

Richard obeyed, enjoying the feel of Andy’s thick cock in his fist through the latex protection as he stroked its length slowly, coating it thickly in KY.  Oh Jesus, he was _loving_ this – and the thought that soon he’d be taking this inside him was exciting now rather than unnerving.  When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he turned to Andy.  “Okay?”

Breathing more quickly now, Andy smiled and pulled Richard towards him for a reassuring kiss.  “Completely okay.”  He pushed Richard away gently and then guided him back down onto the bed, warm hand constantly on his shoulder, and turned him to face the window, pushing his uppermost leg slightly up and forward so that he had better access to Richard’s arsehole.  “Now just relax – everything’s going to be okay,” he soothed the younger man, sprinkling tender kisses on his shoulders and stroking his arse cheeks.  “You’re going to have _no_ problem taking me whatsoever!”

Peering over his shoulder, Richard watched as Andy squeezed KY onto his fingers, and then turned back to the window, fixing his gaze on the gleam of sodium light that came in through the blinds.  Savouring the warm night breeze from the part-opened windows, he shifted his weight on his arm and tried to get into a position that would be comfortable and wouldn’t mean he’d end up with a dead arm, or pins and needles spoilt the mood of the moment.  He was just getting settled when he felt Andy move closer; then shuddered with pleasure when he felt Andy’s mouth against the back of his neck.

“I’m going to lube you up with some KY now.  It won’t hurt, so just relax; we’ve got loads of time, so there’s no need to rush – and for fuck’s sake _tell_ me if anything hurts!”

When Richard felt Andy’s lubed middle finger against his arse, he was surprised that he felt aroused rather than nervous and scared, as he’d expected.  Andy’s finger pressed deeper and further and Richard squirmed in excitement as he felt Andy breach the ring of muscle and enter him.  He swallowed hard, cock twitching frantically, as Andy massaged him with gentle strokes and then pushed in deeper, a second finger joining the first.

“Touch yourself,” Andy growled against his neck, fingers working slowly inside Richard’s arse.  “Not too much – just nice and slow.  Like I’m doing with my hand.”

Raising himself slightly off the bed, Richard wrapped trembling fingers around his semi-erect cock and began to masturbate, matching the slow rhythm of Andy’s hand.  His breathing was coming in sharp gasps, chiming with the strokes of the fingers inside him and his hand around his penis.  Christ, he might even be whimpering – there were certainly high, moaning sounds of pleasure in his ears that didn’t seem to be coming from Andy’s mouth.  Not least because Andy was now whispering things into Richard’s ear.  Obscene things.  Erotic things.  Things that just made him want Andy to replace his fingers with his cock and pound him into the mattress.

He wasn’t sure if he may even have said that aloud; but he was just starting to drift off into a delicious, sensual reverie, thrusting back against Andy’s hand, when he felt Andy begin to withdraw his fingers, though still massaging his arse and keeping him open.

“How are you feeling?” Andy whispered, biting and blowing on Richard’s shoulder.

“Don’t – want you to stop,” Richard gasped.  “Oh Christ, Andy – keep your fingers in me, for fuck’s sake.  Oh sweet Jesus, that feels so fucking fantastic!”  Richard heard Andy’s breath quicken – and then there was something slick and warm against his arse.  “Fuck me – oh please, fucking hell – _please_!  Oh Jesus fuck I want you in me!”

Andy shushed him soothingly.  “Are you ready, then?”

“Yes...oh _yes_!”

Andy kissed his neck.  “I’m going to put my cock in you now.”  He pressed the latex-covered head of his cock between the fingers stretching Richard’s arse, making the younger man start.  “Just relax, just relax,” Andy soothed him, stroking his shoulder with the flat of his palm.  “And if you feel like you need to have a crap, don’t worry – it’s perfectly normal!”

“Bloody hell,” Richard panted, laughing nervously.  “You say the most romantic things, Serkis!”

“Just wanted to reassure you,” Andy chuckled.  He pushed forward gently, easing his cock in past the tight sphincter muscle, and wrapping his arm around Richard’s tummy as Richard let out a cry.  “Ssh, ssh.  Just get used to the feel of me inside you.”  He pushed in deeper, carefully noting Richard’s reactions and giving his arse time to relax and open.

“Oh Christ...”  Richard squirmed in excitement, amazed at the sensation of Andy’s thick, lubed cock entering his arse and at just how much easier this was than he’d assumed it was going to be.  He felt slightly uncomfortable, and the sensation of fullness in his arse felt strange; but knowing he could trust Andy implicitly made this easier, and oh, _god_ it felt good.  “Oh dear sweet baby Jesus and the – oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _fuck_...” he whimpered as he felt Andy slide completely home, wriggling back against the hard body behind him as Andy’s balls rubbed gently against his arse cheeks.

Andy stroked his hand over Richard’s torso, fingering his nipples gently as he began to thrust into Richard’s arse.  Andy let out a chuckle as Richard _oooooh!_ ’d loudly– and the feeling of his laughter reverberated through Richard’s body in a delicious echo.  “Try and stay relaxed, Richie.  This will be _so_ good, I promise.  But for god’s sake, remember to keep breathing!  When you get anxious you tend to hold your breath and I really don’t want you turning blue on me!”

Richard laughed unsteadily at Andy’s comment.  “That’s a shame – blue’s a colour that suits me!”

Andy laughed against Richard’s shoulder, the sound a fruity, gleeful chuckle.  Richard couldn’t help but chuckle in response, feeling light-headed as Andy thrust into him more quickly, cock sinking in even deeper and stroking his prostate.  He could think of nothing more wonderful than feeling Andy’s body and their laughter and that long, thick cock hammering into him.  Maybe it was because he _did_ feel relaxed, secure, and confident in Andy’s arms, but he was so horny now that all he could think of was how many times he might be able to take Andy’s cock in his arse tonight before he’d be too sore to walk without looking like John Wayne for the next week.

“You’re beautiful,” Andy rasped against Richard’s ear as he reached round for Richard’s cock and began to masturbate him again.  “Christ, your arse is so hot and tight.  I _love_ the feel of your arse, Coyle.  It makes me so horny, knowing you’re a virgin – and that you _love_ this, don’t you...that you _love_ being fucked...”

“Yes – oh _yes_!” Richard gulped, turned on even more by the sound of Andy’s throaty growls and grunts in his ears.

“Glad you asked me now?” Andy asked breathlessly as he kissed the top of Richard’s spine.

“ _Very_!” Richard chuckled at the sound of the smile in Andy’s voice.  “I never – I _never_ thought – it would feel – so bloody amazing!”

And then neither of them _could_ talk as they drew closer to climax, Richard yelping and moaning and slamming his free hand against the mattress in ecstasy as Andy’s hand on his cock sent him over the edge.  He was joined barely a half-dozen thrusts later by Andy himself, groaning loudly against the side of Richard’s neck, and pulling the younger man in against him so tightly that it was as though their bodies might meld completely...

 *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


	5. Epilogue

When Richard opened his eyes, woken by the sound of post coming through the letterbox downstairs, it was light in the room and there was a ray of sunshine angling in through the blinds just so and hitting him in the eye.  Squinting against it, he looked round – and panicked when he realised that he had no idea at all of where he was except that he was in a strange room, in a strange bed, and his arse was sore and his mouth felt bruised...

It was only when he felt the warm body lying beside him in the bed that he remembered the events of the previous night and gleefully wrapped his arms around a sleeping Andy and snuggled up to him, entwining his legs around Andy’s and burying his face in Andy’s neck, where his nose was tickled gently by Andy’s hair.

“Morning, princess,” Andy croaked sleepily.  “And how are you?”

Richard started guiltily.  “Sorry – I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay, I was only dozing anyway.”  Andy reached up and ruffled Richard’s mop of hair, now sticking up from his scalp like an exploded horsehair sofa.  “Are you all right?”

Richard smiled back blissfully.  “Mmmmm!  _Very_ all right, thank you.”

Andy chuckled, his voice still thick with sleep.  “Any regrets?”

“Regrets?  About what?”

“Your first time with another man?”

Richard thought for a moment, and then nuzzled Andy’s neck.  “What – for letting you initiate me into the mysteries of bum-fun and then screwing me for hours and hours and hours and – _how_ many times was it in the end? – and leaving me with an arse like a Japanese flag?  _God_ , no!  Christ, I’d do it all over again tonight and tomorrow night if I could.”  And then he paused, and buried his nose deep into Andy’s chest hair in embarrassment.  “Oh fuck.  I said that out-loud, didn’t I...”

Andy merely laughed and embraced him, stroking his back gently.  “If that’s what you wanted to do, I’d – well, I’d be happy to oblige.  I –”  He paused, suddenly shy.  “We were great together last night.  Not just the – well, not just the sex, but the way we seemed to...”  Andy ran his thumb across Richard’s shoulder blade and sighed.  “We really hit it off, didn’t we?  And I really want to get to know you better, Richie.  I’ve no intention of letting you go _just_ yet.  I don’t want to lose you.”  He stared at the younger man, then laughed nervously.  “Oh Christ, please _say_ something, for _fuck’s_ sake!”

Richard kissed Andy on the cheek.  “And I don’t want to lose _you_ ,” he replied simply, hardly able to believe what Andy had said.  “I hate to say this, but I think you’re what I was talking about last night.  I think I’ve found what I told you I was looking for.  They say you can tell – that you _know_ when you meet the person who’s going to be ‘the one’.”  He shook his head, a wry grin spreading across his face.  “Would you credit it?  It’s you – and I’m glad.  I’m sounding like a greetings card, but it’s true.  I can’t _believe_ I’m saying it, but –”

Andy silenced him with a kiss.  “Not much more for _me_ to say, then,” he replied gruffly, giving Richard’s arse a gentle slap.

“Would you like me to make breakfast?” Richard asked, making Andy hide a smile at his eagerness.  “I don’t mind.  Got eggs?  I’ll do us scrambled egg on toast.  I’m _proud_ of my scrambled eggs,” he added, whisking an imaginary bowl under the covers.  “The secret is to do them slowly, not overcook them.  Keep them creamy, not rubbery...”

With a mischievous grin, Andy growled and pushed Richard onto his back, pinning the younger man down with the weight of his body.  “Time for that later, I think, Richie...  In the meantime, I can think of something _else_ creamy that I’d like a mouthful of.”  His smile became sinful, more animalistic.  “I seem to remember that I promised you a _proper_ blow-job several hours ago, didn’t I?  Well, then – I like to keep my promises, and I think we ought to start as we mean to go on...”

Richard’s tummy turned somersaults as Andy began his deliciously slow and sensual exploration of his body.  _This_ , Richard thought, revelling in his growing arousal and Andy’s expert touch, was more like it – and _definitely_ tastier than his offer of scrambled eggs.

Breakfast was going to have to wait... 

*  *  *  *  *

All these years I've been wandering around,

Wondering how come nobody told me

All that I was looking for was somebody who looked like you.

~ **_I’ve Got A Feeling_** – John Lennon/Paul McCartney

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as ever, to my fabulous beta Rosie. :¬)


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